S. R. Faruqi:

The flow of blood is toward the heart, because all the blood in the body comes into the heart, and then the heart sends it back into the body. This medical principle (that blood flows in the whole body and the heart is its fountainhead) had been ascertained by the Egyptian Hakim ibn al-Hisam [ibn al-hii;sam] long before the English scientist Harvey. It's not anything strange that Mir would have known about this inquiry.

The theme of the second line is interesting and full of realism, but the conclusion that has been drawn from it is even fresher. In the breast there is a wound, the heart is in the breast, and toward the heart all the blood is being drawn in and flowing. It's clear that in such a case all the blood will flow out of the body, and the wound will not heal; rather, the wounded person will die.

Another interpretation can also be that all my blood goes toward the heart (perhaps so that it can become tears and emerge)-- in such a situation, how would the wound in the breast heal? This too is a traditional medical problem: if in some place the blood would dry up, then that part of the body becomes entirely dead. And if there would be a wound there, then the wound will not heal.

Since ;xaa:tir can also mean 'heart', it is a word that has the relationship of a zila with 'breast' and 'heart'. For others of Mir's verses that are based on medical matters, see:

{114,1}

and

{1058,7}.

FWP:

SETS == KYA
MOTIFS
NAMES
TERMS == 'MEANING-PLAY'

The first line has been framed to make sure that the 'kya effect' is operative. It might be asking 'Would my temperament be...?', a genuine question ('Would I be anxious, or not?'). It might be an indignant repudiation of concern, 'As if my temperament would be...!' ('Of course I wouldn't be anxious!'). Or it might be a fervent endorsement, 'How my temperament would be...!' ('Of course I would be anxious!').

And what might the anxiety (or lack thereof) be about? As SRF notes, it might be because if all the blood in the body flows toward the heart, and the speaker has a big hole near his heart, he might be doomed to die-- an outcome which, in the ghazal world, he might or might not desire. Alternatively, the channeling of blood into the heart area might contribute to the healing of the wound-- an outcome which, in the ghazal world, the speaker might or might not desire.

So we don't know what's likely to happen, nor do we know how the speaker feels about it. But we do know that there's a gorgeous bit of wordplay: for the temperament or 'heart' to be 'tranquil' or 'composed' means, literally, for it to be 'collected'. (See the definitions above). If all the blood in the body is flowing toward the heart, would that not make the heart/temperament 'collected'? Or, conversely, if all that blood then goes on to flow out through a gaping chest-wound, perhaps the heart, like the blood, wouldn't be 'collected' at all. Here's one more example of how brilliantly Mir assimilates wordplay into 'meaning-play'.